


As We Go Along

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (Season 6B)
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 16:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5934709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life isn't always about saving worlds and going on missions. Sometimes, it's the little things that end up being just as memorable. A series of Season 6B slice-of-life vignettes for the Doctor and Jamie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Can Go Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of "slice-of-life" vignettes/TARDISodes that showcase the lives of Two and Jamie during their moments of downtime in Season 6B. As such, these will be varying in subject material and timeline placement, and will be updated as and when I get the inspiration.

"Doctor, can ye just tell me one thing?"

"Yes, Jamie?"

"How could ye lose the TARDIS? _How_?"

The Doctor sighed, glancing up at the sky.

"You're not letting this one go, are you?"

"Ye lost the _TARDIS_!" Jamie said, indignantly. "Ye lost our home!"

"I did not lose the TARDIS!" the Doctor insisted. "The HADS activated, and the TARDIS moved herself to… somewhere."

"Ye lost the TARDIS," Jamie insisted. "And, of course, ye don' have the Stattenheim remote control because ye di'n think to bring it."

"No…" the Doctor sighed. "We were only taking a short walk; how was I to know that something would come along and activate the HADS?"

The duo stared at a perplexed driver standing a few feet away; his car had a badly dented fender, and he was trying to explain to a policeman about how he had skidded off of the wet road and collided with a blue police box, which had then proceeded to vanish before his eyes.

"Five hundred years of travel through space and time, and I assure you, Jamie, that this has never happened before," the Doctor insisted.

"Aye, and it won' happen again," Jamie said. "Ye know why? Because I will be carrying the Stattenheim in my sporran from now on!"

"Now, Jamie… the Celestial Intervention Agency will hardly approve of that; I only just got you back. I don't want to lose you again."

"So ye lost the TARDIS instead? Aye, I see…"

"No…" the Doctor said, facepalming. "I… Oh, never mind! Let's just find the TARDIS and spend some time away from the madness of Earth!"

"And Gallifrey?"

"That goes without saying…"

Jamie shook his head, but followed the Doctor as they cut across the landscape, keeping their eyes open for where the TARDIS had gone. The sky was overcast, threatening to unleash more rain, and Jamie was hoping they'd find the TARDIS before that happened.

As they walked, Jamie winced as he heard his stomach rumbling; he hadn't eaten since that morning, and their little jaunt across the countryside, done so that the Doctor could attain some fossil samples ("Important research," the Doctor had claimed), had not included a meal; though the Time Lords' punishment had only been a few days' separation for Jamie, it had been fifty years of traveling alone for the Doctor, who, in that time, had apparently forgotten that humans required nourishment multiple times a day.

It was out of sheer hunger, therefore, that Jamie stopped in his tracks as they passed a small pond, staring at gray goose sitting on a nest by the water's edge. It took the Doctor a moment to notice that Jamie had stopped; the Time Lord turned around in time to see the Scot slowly sneaking towards the waterfowl.

"Jamie!" the Doctor hissed. "Jamie, what do you think you're doing!?"

"Getting supper fixings!" the piper quipped. "Now shush; ye'll scare her off!"

"Jamie, get back here!" the Time Lord said, frantically waving to the Scot. "You don't know what you're doing!"

"Och, Doctor, please! Alexander McLaren and I used to catch geese for our meals when we were in the mood for it. We've got a system; one of us startles the goose and gets it to flee while the other one of us will be right behind it to catch it!"

"Jamie, just answer me one question," the Doctor said, eyeing the fowl nervously. "Did either yourself or Alexander ever attempt this with a nesting female?"

"No, but it cannae be too difficult; they ne'er leave the nest. Now, Doctor, I need ye to approach the goose from that side."

"Not a chance!" the Doctor scoffed. "You're on your own for this crazed endeavor, Jamie. And once it fails, don't say that I didn't warn you."

Jamie gave the Doctor a dark look, but then crept towards the nesting goose. He was within three feet of the fowl when she turned and glared at him with beady, black eyes. Jamie cursed; he had lost his element of surprise, and now he would have to make his move.

He lunged at the goose just as the bird hissed and then flew directly towards him—an unearthly set of noises emitting from her bill. Jamie's look of annoyance now changed to a flash of fear—he had expected the bird to stay still or flee, not attack!

It was the Doctor's laughing that added insult to injury as Jamie scrambled frantically away. A split-second's decision to contemplate on which way to run was all it took; Jamie headed directly for the Doctor as the goose pursued him.

The Doctor's laugh faded in an instant as the Time Lord realized what Jamie was doing.

"Jamie, no! Don't lead that thing over here! Jamie—oh, my word!"

Jamie veered off to the side; as he'd hoped, the bird continued in a straight line towards the Doctor. The Time Lord fled with the fowl in pursuit.

Jamie hadn't sicced the goose on the Doctor simply out of vengeance; if he couldn't get the goose, he could at least get the eggs. The piper now scrambled back towards the nest; his hand had closed around an egg when he heard a loud splash.

"No…" Jamie said, groaning.

He knew what he would see when he looked out onto the water; sure enough, the Gallifreyan had fallen back on crocodilian instincts, seeking refuge under the surface of the water. The goose now turned back towards her nest… getting a full view of Jamie with his hand in the nest.

Jamie released the egg and ran, running along the bank as she gave chase. Eventually, she was convinced that there was enough distance between Jamie and her nest and returned to it.

The Scot now stopped to catch his breath as the Doctor swam up to the bank of the pond and clambered out.

"Well," the Time Lord said, calmly. "Have you learned anything from this, Jamie?"

"Aye," Jamie said. "Ne'er go after a goose if I have a partner who will only complicate the matter."

"Yes— _no_. Jamie… Oh, never mind. I suppose it _is_ my fault for not remembering that you need to eat more often than I do."

"Well, I'm nae really hungry anymore," the piper sighed. "Something aboot nearly getting mauled by a bird tends to ruin your appetite."

"Quite."

"And we're still no better than we were before," Jamie added. "We're still lost, withoot any idea of where the TARDIS could be." He gave a wan smiled as he looked at the Doctor, who was soaking wet from his dip in the pond. "I suppose the only consolation is that I'm nae the one drenched."

It was as that moment that a rumble of thunder filled the air, and a torrent of rain began to fall from the clouds. Within moments, Jamie was drenched, as well, silently turning to glare at the Doctor, who was shaking with suppressed laughter.

"I am still blaming ye for all of this."

"Oh, Jamie…" the Doctor said; the Time Lord's voice was a slightly higher pitch on account of the laughter threatening to break through. "I truly am sorry."

"No, ye're nae."

"Qu-quite right."

The Doctor doubled over, laughing for the first time in the fifty years since the tribunal. Oh, it felt good to laugh again! But even better than that was the sound of Jamie finally cracking and laughing, too. That was what the Doctor had missed most—that treasured sidekick, companion… _family_.

"I really have missed you," the Time Lord stammered, in between laughs.

Jamie couldn't reply; he was laughing too hard, as well. And for several minutes, they leaned against each other as they cackled.

Several yards away, the goose watched them with careful eyes, silently dismissing the both of them as utterly mad.


	2. Infinite Potential

It was three rain-filled hours later that the Doctor and Jamie succeeded in finding the TARDIS; the Doctor had abandoned his fossil hunt for a time unspecified—when the weather would be more enjoyable, and when they would bring enough provisions to keep a hungry human satisfied. Jamie had already devoured every last jelly baby that the Doctor had in his pockets, and the Scot was practically begging the TARDIS to appear before them so that he may gain access to the food machine.

"She won't like the rain," the Doctor said, sighing. "She'll have gone somewhere as watertight as possible… Ah, of course—there should be some small caverns around here!"

And it was there that they found the TARDIS. She wouldn't let them in, at first; she was still irked at being front-ended by the wayward driver and subsequently blamed the Doctor for leaving her on the side of the road in the first place. After much cajoling from the Doctor, who promised that he would never do such a thing again (and also after much desperate howling from a soaked and starving piper), she finally admitted them entry.

Within minutes, the Doctor had changed into his bathrobe and was in front of the fireplace in his study, regulating his body temperature, which had decreased significantly on account of the cold rain. He had a small stack of books with him, and, after warming up a bit, he called out to the piper.

"Jamie! Jamie, can you come here, please?" He listened as he heard footsteps approaching closer. "Ah, Jamie, did you find something to…"

The Doctor trailed off, staring as he saw Jamie standing in the doorway of the study, carrying a plate of sandwiches. That wasn't what surprised the Doctor, however; he hadn't expected to see the piper clad in the Time Lord's own Prydonian robe—minus the ornate headdress.

"Jamie, what—?"

"This was the only thing in yer wardrobe that di'n require trousers," Jamie said, flatly. "I am nae wearing trousers; I have suffered enough today!"

"Jamie, you only got chased by a goose…"

"And drenched, and starved!" Jamie added, sitting down beside the Doctor. He placed the plate on the floor and began to tear ravenously at the sandwiches.

The Doctor said nothing for a moment, but after half of the sandwiches disappeared, he finally spoke.

"You know, Jamie, just because Gallifreyans only need to eat once a day, it doesn't mean that we can't appreciate food when it's presented to us. Just so you're aware…"

Jamie held up the plate, and the Doctor took one of the sandwiches.

"Thank you, Jamie. And when you're finished, I say it's about time we resumed your lessons."

The piper froze, his next sandwich stopping just before it reached his mouth.

" _What_."

"Your lessons!" the Doctor exclaimed, showing Jamie the books he had. "You'd made impressive progress in the three years you were traveling with me before the other Time Lords spoiled everything; imagine how much further you could go! I've got volumes here on all sorts of subjects; I think now would be a good time…" He trailed off as Jamie gave him a blank stare. "What's the matter?"

"Doctor, I just came back," Jamie said. "Don' we have more important things to talk aboot? I want to hear aboot all the things ye've been doing while I was away. It was only four days for me, but ye said it was fifty years for ye—I want to know what all happened! I'm sure ye've got stories to tell!"

"But, Jamie, don't you want to learn?"

"I thought I was done," Jamie said. "Just before that whole thing with the War Lords happened, ye told me that I was reading and writing English so well that no one would believe that I'd ne'er set foot in a school before."

"Well, yes, you've mastered reading and writing English very well, and you should be incredibly proud!" the Doctor said. "But there's so much more for you to learn: physics, biology, mathematics, other languages, even—I was going to give you a lesson in Gallifreyan right now!"

"…Ye've gone daft!"

"Really, Jamie, I think that's quite uncalled for. These are things I want to share with you; I was hoping you'd be just as receptive to them as you were to my earlier lessons in English and basic sciences."

"Aye, but those were all basic things," Jamie pointed out. "I cannae learn all of… these things! Especially nae the Gallifreyan!"

"Well, you're certainly dressed for Gallifreyan lessons," the Doctor mused. "That Prydonian robe suits you; you look quite smart."

"Dressing like one and learning the language are two different things," Jamie said.

"True. But I still don't think why you're incapable of learning it—or the other things," the Doctor said, taking out one of the books from the stack. "Now, you see this? This book has passages in both Old High Gallifreyan and modern Gallifreyan—"

The Doctor paused as Jamie pushed the book away.

"Doctor, please," the piper said. "I don' want to go through this."

"Why?" the Doctor asked, though the Time Lord's tone of voice made it clear that he knew exactly why. "I always thought that you enjoyed our lessons."

"I did. I do," Jamie said. "Aye, then, teach me some science. Maybe that will end up better than…"

He trailed off.

"Better than what?" the Doctor asked, again with the tone of knowing exactly what the answer was. Jamie didn't answer, and the Doctor continued. "Very well, we shall get to science later; but first, I want to teach you the Gallifreyan alphabet."

Jamie cringed.

"No."

"Jamie, this is my language—something very special to me that I want to share with you."

"Doctor, I cannae learn it!" Jamie exclaimed, suddenly snapping. "So please stop asking me to!"

"And _why_ do you think that you can't learn it?" His gentle eyes were fixed on the Scot. _I know why, but I want to hear it from you_.

Jamie stared back at him, determined not to say anything, but then broke.

"Ye Gallifreyans are so advanced and clever, and yer language is so complicated and looks just like chicken scratchings to me," he said, glaring at the book in the Doctor's hands. "I heard them, Doctor—the other Time Lords, when they were lecturing ye aboot toeing the line to keep me with ye."

"You heard them?"

"Aye. 'We question yer judgment, Doctor, for choosing to travel with a primitive of an intelligence that is lower than average of his species.' And it's nae just them; I got back all my memories—even the bad ones. Even… even when the Krotons said that I was of low intelligence and had no value."

"When was that!?"

"When ye and Zoe went into the Dynatrope, and I tried to follow ye. They caught me and gave me some sort of mind probe."

"You never told me…!"

"Aye, we had to help the Gonds; I din' think it mattered, and then I forgot."

"Evidently, you did _not_ forget! And I would think that you wouldn't believe beings who think it's a good idea to either wall themselves off from intergalactic conflict, or be the cause of it!"

"I believe my father."

"…Could you elaborate on that, please?"

"I di'n learn to walk or talk as quickly as my brothers did; I was… slow with all of that. Papa thought it would be better if I learned practical things instead of going to school like they did."

The Doctor and Jamie exchanged a long, silent glance with each other. Finally, the Time Lord picked up a small device that he had placed next to the mathematics book and handed it to Jamie.

"What is this, Jamie?"

"A calculator."

"What's the square root of 200, rounded to two decimal places?"

"Um… 14.14," the piper said, after pressing a few buttons on the device.

"Now, if we took the TARDIS back in time to meet your father, what would he say if I handed that calculator to him and asked him to fine me the square root of 200?"

"…He'd probably accuse ye of witchcraft."

"You see, Jamie? You know more than he does! When people look at you—whether human, Gallifreyan, Kroton, or whatever—they fail to see all of the untapped potential you have. It's one of your assets, though; they will always underestimate you, and then you can surprise them all. And I think that, this time, you will end up surprising yourself with what you are capable of."

Jamie still didn't look convinced, and so the Doctor tried a new tactic.

"Jamie, you often say I'm a daft old man, don't you?"

"Aye…"

"And yet, no matter what the situation is, whether we're dealing with monsters, villains, missions, or something unknown, you will always listen to this daft old man, no matter what mad plan he's come up with."

"Aye," Jamie said, nodding. "I trust ye. I trust ye with my life."

"Well, then," the Doctor said, with a smile. "Why is it that you trust me in the face of all of those dangers, but not with this?"

Jamie stared at the Doctor for a long time.

"Ye really think I have enough potential to learn your language?"

"Jamie, your potential is infinite," the Doctor assured him. "Now, while you finish the rest of those sandwiches, what say you also take a look at the Gallifreyan alphabet?"

And this time, Jamie nodded.


	3. The Best-Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one can be summarized as "Five times the Doctor encouraged Jamie to try new things from the future, and one time he didn't."

It's a joy to be traveling with Jamie again, the Doctor knows. But he also knows that, given the chance, Goth would be ready to take it all away from him. And so the Doctor worries and frets, trying to come up with some sort of plan that would ensure that even if the other Time Lords tried to take Jamie away, they would see the futility of it and return him to the Doctor's side.

But how…? _How_?

The Doctor's answer comes one morning at the breakfast table; during the past fifty years, after being separated from Jamie, the Doctor never ate breakfast—or dinner—content with only a light lunch. But the Doctor knows that humans place great importance on strengthening bonds over meals, and so has a fried gumblejack on the table for himself to keep Jamie company while he eats his own breakfast.

Jamie arrives at the table that morning perplexed and covered with sticky notes stuck all over him.

"Doctor, why are these wee bits of paper sticking to me? I was practicing writing the Gallifreyan language ye taught me, but when I tried to throw these bits of paper away, they stuck to me instead!"

The Doctor tries not to laugh, instead explaining about the purpose of sticky notes before taking note of what the notes on Jamie are actually saying, upon which, his eyes widen.

"Jamie, what is all this you wrote?"

"Oh, well, I found this set of sticky papers next to yer 500-year-diary in the study, so I started copying down yer notes in Gallifreyan on the papers to practice."

"Well, that explains it," the Doctor sighs.

"Explains what?"

The Doctor picks one of the notes off of Jamie's jumper.

"Why you wrote here some _highly_ unflattering things about Goth."

"Whate'er it is I said, ye said it first," Jamie reminds him. "I was just practicing writing the letters; maybe ye can help me translate what I wrote?

"Yes, well…" The Doctor trails off as he notices that, stuck on Jamie's sleeve, is a sticky note bearing the Doctor's true name, which Jamie innocently copied down with the rest of the letters. "Most of it, anyway."

As he helps Jamie remove the sticky notes, a brilliant idea sparks in the Time Lord's mind—

If Jamie were to become a walking anachronism, it would be impossible for him to be sent back to his own time, even with the memories of his travels wiped. There were other forms of memory that the Time Lords couldn't affect, and the Doctor could use methods to strengthen the other kinds that could be affected.

It's an impishly brilliant plan, and one that could work very well.

"Jamie…." the Doctor says, placing a hand on his companion's shoulder. "In the three-and-a half years we traveled together before this whole Celestial Intervention Agency mess, I never did get around to teaching you about casual things from the future, did I? Like these sticky notes, for instance…"

"No," Jamie admits. "We were usually too busy running from beasties to do anything casual."

"I think," the Doctor says. "There are lots of things you would like from the future that you haven't yet seen. And seeing as though we don't have any missions at the moment… perhaps this would be a good time for you to be introduced to them."

"Instead of my lessons?"

The Doctor gives him a look.

"In _addition_ to your lessons."

"…Oh, aye. Well, it cannae hurt…"

"Excellent!" the Doctor exclaims. "Now, let's see to breakfast, shall we?"

* * *

The first item of the future that the Doctor introduces to Jamie is the smartphone; he presents him with one after breakfast as sort of a welcome-back present. Jamie is thrilled; he's seen people use these in other times, and had always thought they were "interesting wee gadgets."

The Doctor's plan is to have Jamie's hand muscles be adapted to using the smartphone; muscle memory was one type of memory that the Time Lords couldn't alter, no matter how they tried. This was just one step in the master plan, and as far as the Doctor was concerned, it was one that Jamie was going to enjoy.

Of course, even the best-laid plans of Time Lords and men don't go completely according to plan…

Within minutes, Jamie questions why there are "mad birds" on his new phone, and promptly starts playing Bejeweled during his lessons, much to the Doctor's exasperation. It isn't long before the Doctor's reading time in the middle of the night is interrupted by Jamie's discovery of emoticons and his proud announcement that he can "make and send wee faces" in his text messages—which are only sent to the Doctor, anyway… one after the other… all night long.

The other shoe drops when Jamie starts playing with the phone's web browser and spends hours on it. The Doctor takes it all in stride until he hears bagpipe videos on youtube being played in the dead of night.

It's at that point that the Doctor shuts off the TARDIS's wi-fi; he created this menace, and now he has to tame it. A mild squabble ensues, but it ends with the Doctor announcing that Jamie's next lesson is going to be in a little thing called "Moderation."

The good thing that has come from this, of course, is that Jamie was behaving very much like a 21st-century youth, as the Doctor had hoped. The other Time Lords certainly won't be able to separate Jamie from his phone—or from the Doctor.

In the end, Jamie finds a happy medium in regards to his phone usage, and the Doctor declares this phase of the plan successful.

* * *

The Doctor decides that, perhaps, it is best that the next item of the future that Jamie be introduced to be something not involving a screen. Muscle memory is still something that the Doctor wants to focus on, and, in the end, the Doctor uncovers an air hockey table he had stashed away.

"I acquired this some time ago, on a trip to America," he announces. "Never got around to using it, though…"

"What's it do?" Jamie asks, intrigued by it.

"Well, it's a game, Jamie. Do you remember the field hockey match we attended once?"

"Aye."

"Well, this is a table-top version of the game. You use this…" He hands Jamie one of the little mallets. "…To try to get the puck into the goal that your opponent is guarding."

"That's all?"

"That's all. Would you care to try it? …I fully understand if you're a bit reluctant. After all, a Gallifreyan's reflexes—"

Jamie strikes the puck with the mallet and sends it cleanly into the Doctor's goal, and then proceeds to fold his arms and glance back at the Gallifreyan.

"Now, _that_ wasn't fair!" the Doctor pouts, as he retrieves the puck.

Kid gloves are off; actually, they are never put on in the first place. The Doctor and Jamie strike the puck back and forth, unmercifully. The Gallifreyan's reflexes only stand so much against the human's sheer determination. As it becomes clearer that the two are evenly matched, it soon becomes a matter of personal honor.

All of the Doctor's previous lessons about moderation go flying out the window; the match continues on for hours, with only short breaks to catch their breath and for Jamie to quickly down something edible to keep his stamina up.

In the end, it is the TARDIS who decides that enough is enough; it's the middle of the night and the score is tied at 26-all when she plunges the room into complete darkness, much to the ire of both players.

Jamie retrieves his smartphone from his sporran and uses the screen as a light just in time to see the Doctor cast a furious glance at the ceiling, the glowing tapetum lucidum in his eyes augmenting his frustrated expression.

"Killjoy!" he fumes.

She refuses to turn the lights back on. Jamie knows exactly who is in charge here and who will win this argument, and he surrenders to the inevitable and announces that he's going to bed.

This brings the Doctor around to his senses, and he retreats to his study, not entirely sure whether to declare this phase of the plan a success or not. In the end, he decides that it is; it goes without saying that he and Jamie will have a rematch—and many more after that.

* * *

The Doctor soon realizes, however, that his own actions during the whole fiasco with the mad air hockey game has, in effect, nullified his "moderation" lecture to Jamie that he had given in regards to his smartphone use. Jamie doesn't spend endless hours on the phone anyway, despite that, which the Doctor is grateful for.

However, the fact that the Doctor doesn't have a leg to stand on in regards to moderation manifests itself when the third phase of the Doctor's plan ends up backfiring on him in the most spectacular fashion.

The plan had been simple: introduce Jamie to modern music. In retrospect, the Doctor should've realized that this would end up backfiring on him, especially since he remembers quite well what happened when Jamie received that transistor radio from Tobias Vaughn during their last encounter with the Cybermen. Why the Doctor presumed that this time would be different, he still doesn't know.

Nevertheless, once the Doctor introduces Jamie to various music apps and sites, the piper proceeds to be very selective in what he listens to—very, _very_ selective.

And the Doctor quickly realizes that he can't lecture Jamie on moderation anymore without looking like a fool. Upon making peace with that, the Doctor adopts a mantra of _it makes him happy, it makes him happy, it makes him happy_ … as he hears "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" being played for the umpteenth time.

However, the Doctor can't deny that he did achieve what he set out to do in terms of his plan; it's just that it's gone horribly _right_. The Doctor sighs as he hears the song again, lodging deeper into his brain; he's certain that somewhere down the line, in one of his future regenerations, that song will return to haunt him.

…It wouldn't be half as bad if it wasn't for the fact that the Doctor can hear the TARDIS laughing at him.

* * *

For phase four, the Doctor abandons anything that has to do with electronics. This time, he's done his research, spending long hours in the TARDIS library, pouring over books on human physiology. What he finds is that humans, like several other animals, have connections between the senses of smell and taste to their memories.

Armed with that knowledge, the Doctor procures a food item that, despite being ancient, is quite popular in the modern day—a pizza. He is confident that Jamie has never seen anything like it, and as they sit down to lunch, the look of utter bewilderment on the Scot's face proves him right.

"What is _that_!?" the piper queries.

"It's called 'pizza,' Jamie."

"What planet is that from?"

"From Earth, of course!" the Doctor says. "It's been around for centuries, but it has made a niche for itself in modern cuisines all over the world. What you see before you is the modern incarnation."

"If it's all the same to ye, Doctor, I think I'll pass," Jamie states, folding his arms as he looks at the pizza.

"Now, really, Jamie, you've tried all sorts of foods on our travels; I don't see why this should be so difficult—especially when it's from your own planet! …Won't you at least sample it?"

Jamie says nothing as the Doctor places a slice of the pizza on a plate and places it in front of him. As the piper continues to look at the pizza in suspicion, the Doctor suddenly realizes this unforeseen flaw in this phase of the plan. Despite this, he waits and watches as Jamie looks around for utensils.

"You eat it with your hands," the Doctor explains, prompting a baffled look from the Scot; back when Jamie first started traveling with the Doctor, his table manners had been something to be desired, so this manages to be an intriguing change after many past lessons of etiquette.

Jamie now proceeds to give the pizza a sniff. The smell seems to be intriguing, as well, though its unfamiliarity still leaves the piper cautious about it. Realizing that Jamie is going to have to learn by example, the Doctor takes a slice of pizza for himself and begins to eat it.

The pizza is fine and of great quality, but the Doctor knows that, as a Gallifreyan, it's quite dangerous—the tomatoes in the sauce and the peppers, mushrooms, and olives on top are high in salicylic acid, which is extremely toxic to Gallifreyans. He has plenty of chocolate on hand to act as an antidote, however, so he is willing to put up with the temporary—albeit extreme—discomfort if it means that his plan is one step closer to succeeding.

In the end, the Doctor finds it completely worth it upon seeing the look on Jamie's face when, after taking his first bite of pizza, the Scot looks as though he's had a revelation and tasted the food of the Heavens, and now knows the answers to life and all of its mysteries. The piper consumes half of the pizza in one sitting and requests the other half for dinner. The Doctor is more than happy to let him have the other half and, after lunch, he retreats back to his study to consume the chocolate to counteract the salicylic acid.

Despite the unpleasant feeling in his gut, the Doctor declares this phase of the plan as an unmistakable success.

* * *

For phase five of the plan, the Doctor reluctantly decides to go back to electronics. The entertainment room in the TARDIS was one they hardly ever used, despite the fact that it had a perfectly inviting wide-screen television, surrounded by couches with reclining mechanisms in them. Now is as good a time as any to put them to use, the Doctor decides, so he parks the TARDIS in orbit over the Earth to catch the TV signals emitting from the various stations on the ground.

After a brief lesson on how the television works, the Doctor decides to let Jamie decide what to watch—against all better judgment.

For some unexplainable reason, Jamie settles on a monster movie marathon going on, the focus being on Dracula. They get through _Dracula_ , _Dracula Leaves_ , _Dracula Comes Back_ , _Dracula Goes Away Again_ , and part-way through _The Scars of Dracula_ with a bit of commentary by the Doctor on how the Time Lords despise vampires, and how vampires are among the few species in the universe that can strike undue fear into the hearts of a Gallifreyan. It takes Jamie a moment to realize that this means that vampires are real after all, and that the stories he had heard about them growing up were true.

Jamie stares at the Doctor in a mix of horror and wonder, asking him if he's ever seen any. The Doctor hesitates before admitting that yes, in the course of one of his missions before reuniting with Jamie, he had been attacked by one.

Jamie immediately checks the Doctor's neck.

"Oh, Jamie, do stop fussing over me; I wasn't turned into one of them, if that's what's worrying you!"

But he lets Jamie continue his inspection to satisfy him, deciding that this isn't the best time to let the piper know that Gallifreyans are crocodilians and, therefore, are carnivorous anyway without being turned into vampires. Once Jamie is satisfied, the Doctor tells the story of how he dealt with the vampire.

"Of course, the thing with vampires is, you deal with one, and then the kin start clamoring for revenge…" the Doctor sighs.

"So… ye're saying that we could be under attack by real vampires at any moment?" Jamie asks.

"Well, seeing as though we're perched in orbit above the Earth, they'd have to be quite determined…"

"Oh, aye," Jamie says, relaxing slightly as he looks back at the television screen. But then he frowns, pointing at Dracula's servant on the screen. "Doctor, look! That chappie looks like ye!"

"Oh, really, Jamie, don't be ridiculous… Oh, my word… he _does_."

But before either of them can get a closer look, the room is plunged into darkness and the television shuts off; before the Doctor can yell at the TARDIS again, a loud screech is heard outside in the corridor, and the Doctor finds himself with one highly alarmed piper practically hanging from his neck.

"Exactly how determined would a vampire have to be to break into the TARDIS while we were perched above the Earth?" Jamie asks, in a frightened whisper.

The Doctor's response is to return the security cling.

"Well, it's not impossible…" he admits.

Slowly, they step into the corridor, which is just as dark as the entertainment room—and the rest of the TARDIS is the same way.

"They must have retrieved some sort of deactivation mechanism and turned it on the Old Girl," the Doctor murmurs.

"And now they're in?" Jamie whispers back.

Another screech echoes from down the corridor, prompting Jamie to tighten his cling.

"So it would seem," the Doctor says. "I thank you for trying to shield my neck, but I do like to be able to turn my head, you know."

Jamie readjusts his cling to around the Doctor's shoulders, and, slowly they wander down the corridor.

"Odd…" the Doctor murmurs. "The sound came from up ahead, and yet, I feel no other presence."

"They're the undead," Jamie says, quietly. "They wouldnae feel the same—"

Another loud screech from something unseen issues from a foot in front of them. The Doctor decides that he is not going to put Jamie at risk and, instead, drags Jamie to the nearest room, which just happens to be the room where he stores the cricket bats, squash racquets, and that air hockey table. Wordlessly, they agree to take shelter here as another screech issues from outside.

The TARDIS's orbit around the Earth eventually takes them to where the sun is currently rising; this dawn finds the Time Lord and the piper hiding under the air hockey table, holding the cricket bats in the shape of a cross.

Jamie dares to wonder aloud as to whether or not the vampire left because of the sunlight, but before the Doctor can answer, he hears a familiar sound—the TARDIS is laughing again.

Furious, the Doctor realizes that there never was any vampire on board, and that the blackout and the screeching noise had been due to the TARDIS getting her revenge for when the Doctor called her a killjoy upon her stopping their air hockey match.

Jamie is too relieved to be angry, and the Doctor eventually realizes that trying to retaliate against one's sentient ship would only lead to disasters beyond all imaginings, so he lets the matter go, albeit reluctantly.

The Doctor also realizes that he can't quite determine whether introducing Jamie to television was successful or not due to the TARDIS's interference. Subsequently, they try again after breakfast, this time choosing an innocuous film about a hobbit breaking into a dragon's stolen treasure hoard. It goes quite well (though the Doctor swears that one of the wizards looks like one of his future selves), but Jamie has no desire for another marathon after what happened last night, and is content to stop after one film.

The Doctor declares this phase of the plan to be a success, as well as being forced to admit that the TARDIS taught a better lesson in moderation than he could have done at that point.

* * *

Overall, the Doctor has to admit that his plan is succeeding, despite the bizarre setbacks that occurred. Jamie is still very much a proud Jacobite piper, but he's also picked up some future habits, as the Doctor had hoped.

Both the Doctor and Jamie have learned valuable lessons in moderation. Even so, the Doctor knows that there are some things of the future that Jamie should stay away from. Jamie needs limits; the Doctor himself had limits as a Time Tot (not that he ever obeyed them, but that's another matter). And with the Doctor being fully responsible for looking after the piper, he knows that when his sixth sense tells him that something is not a good idea for Jamie to get involved with, he should listen.

And that is why, when the Doctor and Jamie are taking a casual stroll down a street on Earth, pausing when Jamie stares at a gleaming motorbike with a For Sale sign on it, the Doctor's knee-jerk reaction is a frantic "Jamie, _no_!"

Jamie is disappointed, but, in the end, has to agree with the Doctor when he says that the space-time continuum simply isn't ready for a Jacobite rebel biker. Some other day, perhaps… but not today.

And, anyway, even without his smartphone, his television, his air hockey table, his music, and his pizza, Jamie has all he could ever want anyway. He has a family again, and it's more than enough for him—and for the Doctor, too.


	4. Morning Mishaps

Jamie did enjoy living in the TARDIS, which he had gladly accepted as his new home the first time the Doctor took him from Culloden. With his memories restored and the Doctor having taken him from Culloden again, Jamie once again felt at ease with the TARDIS. However, one thing had stayed the same—trying to find the Doctor was, sometimes, nearly impossible.

It was one morning that Jamie was in search of the Time Lord, calling for him at the top of his lungs.

"Doctor! Och, are ye going to have breakfast or nae!? I need to know how many plates to set oot!"

Jamie was annoyed when he finally did find the Doctor in a room that was brightly lit with artificial sunlight. The walls and floor of this room were painted white, and there were white cushions all around the floor. The Doctor was sitting here with his frock coat and shirt off and his legs folded in a lotus pose as he stared ahead, unblinkingly.

"There ye are," Jamie said. "Ye di'n hear me? I thought I was shouting enough t' wake the dead!"

The Doctor didn't respond, and Jamie frowned.

"Can ye nae hear me?" he asked, walking over to the Time Lord, who didn't even so much as acknowledge the Scot's presence. In fact, the Doctor didn't even move.

Annoyance quickly turned to alarm for Jamie, who momentarily panicked.

"Doctor!? Doctor, are ye alright!?" he exclaimed.

He pressed an ear to both sides of the Doctor's bare chest, making sure that both of the Time Lord's hearts were beating. They were, and the Scot exhaled in relief, but it was short-lived.

Why wasn't the Doctor responding to him still, even as Jamie was staring right back at him?

"Are ye in a trance?" Jamie asked. "Bewitched? Aye, I've seen this happen before—witchcraft, it is! Witches can cast spells from anywhere! That old hag in the village that my father warned me aboot as a wee lad… She once had someone in a trance who was on the other side of the village. Don' ye worry, Doctor; they got that poor fellow free of the magick within hours; I can do the same for ye!"

He pulled a charm from his sporran.

"My father gave one of these to me and my brothers to protect us from witchcraft; that hag ne'er harmed any of us. Ye wear this, and ye'll be alright again."

He tied the charm around the Time Lord's neck and waited, hopefully. His smile faded as the Doctor still didn't snap out of the trance.

"It's nae witchcraft…" Jamie realized.

Remembering their last conversation about vampires, Jamie began to inspect the Doctor's neck. There were no signs of any vampires having attacked the Doctor, thankfully; it had to be something else.

"Who did this to ye…?" Jamie wondered, quietly.

His eyes fell on the serpent tattoo on the Doctor's arm—the mark of a criminal among the Time Lords. It was the first time he had gotten a good look at it.

"The Time Lords did this to ye, di'n they?" he asked, quietly, as he gently ran his fingertips over the tattooed skin. "They've put ye in a trance so ye'll obey them better? Och, I'll bet it was that Goth fellow; I'll have a word with him over the video link. I won' let him do this to ye!"

Full of purpose, Jamie got up, heading for the door of the room.

That was when something soft smacked him in the back of the head. Jamie whirled around, seeing one of the white pillows at his feet. Suspicious, his eyes turned back to the Doctor, who was still sitting in the same lotus pose.

Slowly, he approached the Doctor again. He noted that a spark seemed to be back in the Time Lord's eyes…

The Doctor's head suddenly turned, his eyes meeting the Scot's for an instant before Jamie found himself under attack by a barrage of pillows.

"What—!?" Jamie yelped, digging out from under the mound of pillows.

The Doctor now leaned against the pile of pillows with Jamie still half-buried in them; the Time Lord propped his chin in his hand so that he and Jamie were eye to eye.

"You didn't happen to notice the sign on the door that read, and I quote, 'Meditation Room,' by any chance?"

Jamie went red.

"I'll take that as a 'no,'" the Doctor said, calmly.

"So… ye were nae in a trance or bewitched… Ye were meditating?"

"Exactly."

"…Oh. Then why di'n ye answer me?"

"Because, Jamie, the point of meditation is to shut out all external stimuli."

"Eh?"

"You're not supposed to react to anything going on around you; it's a matter of self-discipline," the Doctor explained. He now removed the charm from around his neck. "And now, there's this."

Jamie's face burned redder.

"…You know what I've told you about these sorts of things, don't you?" the Doctor asked, still holding out the charm. "I think you've been very unfair towards that poor woman who lived in your village. What proof do you have that she was a witch?"

"My father said nae to go anywhere near her because she practiced witchcraft. And ye di'n disobey Papa."

"And yet, you traveled with me," the Doctor said. "I remember when you used to think I practiced some sort of witchcraft."

"Aye, well, ye saved my life…" Jamie admitted. "Then I just sort of…"

He trailed off, and the Doctor smiled.

"I've grown quite fond of you, too, Jamie," the Time Lord said. "Fifty years, I did as the Celestial Intervention Agency told me to do so that you could travel with me again."

Jamie's eyes fell on the serpent tattoo on the Doctor's arm again.

"Ye did that just for me," the Scot said, quietly. "Put up with all of that…"

"Don't talk as though you aren't selfless," the Doctor said, with a smile. He handed back the charm that Jamie had placed around his neck. "You thought there really was witchcraft about; without even a second thought, you gave that to me to protect me, leaving yourself vulnerable."

Jamie blinked.

"The thought di'n occur to me…"

"And even if it had, you probably still would have given the charm to me, wouldn't you?" the Doctor asked.

The Scot smiled now.

"Of course I would have."

"And for that thought, I am grateful," the Time Lord said, grabbing his shirt and frock coat with one hand while helping Jamie out of the mound of pillows with the other. "Now, then… I believe you were asking about breakfast when you barreled in here?"

"Oh, aye!"

The mishap forgotten, the duo headed for breakfast, starting another day, which was sure to be as eventful as all of their others.


	5. Anything You Can Do

It started out innocently enough—a conversation in the study where Jamie started bragging about his swordsmanship skills.

"Alexander McLaren taught me e'erything I know," he said. "I've been practicing since I was a wee lad!"

"And I'm sure you're quite good at it," the Doctor said, in calm amusement. "However, I think you'll find that I have been practicing the art for centuries, and, as such, have mastered those skills."

"I've ne'er seen ye touch a sword," Jamie scoffed. "I think ye're just blowing smoke; ye might have been able to master the skills once, but that would've been a long time ago. I bet I could beat ye."

"…Is that a challenge?"

"Aye," the Scot replied, without a moment's hesitation.

Without another word, the Doctor stood up and left the study, returning a few minutes later with two swords resting in golden scabbards that had ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs carved on them.

"I've ne'er seen those before," Jamie said, his eyes widening.

"I obtained these during that fifty-year gap I traveled without you," the Doctor sighed. "In between one of my missions, I spend some time with Pharaoh Sethos the First. I got around to telling him about some of my accomplishments—our accomplishments, actually; he seemed quite interested in meeting you. I told him if I ever saw you again, we'd be sure to visit him; we shall have to set aside some time to do that."

"Ye just walk into a royal palace and talk to a king?" Jamie asked. "How did ye convince them to listen?"

"Apparently, I've made myself a name in ancient Egypt already—well, my future selves have, at any rate. That cricketer self of mine supposedly was close friends with a royal lady, and that other fellow in the bow tie was acquainted with Nefertiti herself. By Sethos's time, they called me 'The Keeper of the Blue Shrine,' among other things."

"Aye, it says so on the scabbards," Jamie pointed out, taking one of them as the TARDIS translated the text.

"Yes," the Doctor said, with a satisfied smile. "Sethos had these issued to me after I told him about some of our encounters with the Cybermen—and how they were especially weak to gold."

Jamie blinked, confused.

"Ye're going to use the scabbards against the Cybermen?"

"Draw the sword," the Doctor said, with a smirk.

Jamie did so, his eyes widening as he realized that the blade of the sword was gold, as well.

"This is amazing," he breathed.

"It's yours, then."

" _Really_?"

"Yes, well, you're… Assistant Keeper of the Blue Shrine," the Doctor mused. "I expect Sethos intended for me to share one of the swords with you."

"Aye, I'll take it…" Jamie began, and then smirked. "What is this? If ye're thinking that this gift will make me back out of this challenge, ye're mistaken."

"On the contrary, I'm hoping for a challenge—though I seriously doubt I shall have it," the Doctor responded, with a mock sigh.

They headed to the console room, upon which the Doctor brought the TARDIS in for a landing.

"Welcome to the fields of Alpha Arietis," the Doctor said, as he led the way outside to a lush, green meadow. "A rural area where the finest grain is grown—grain that is used for a most unique and flavorful ale in the pubs in the nearby towns."

"We'll have to visit one after our match," Jamie stated. "Loser buys."

"Naturally, naturally…" the Doctor said, holding his sword out in front of him. "Are you ready, then?"

"Aye," the Scot said, mimicking his stance.

"On the count of three, then. One… two… three!"

" _Creag an Tuire_!"

The golden blades struck each other with a resounding _clang_ —once, twice, a third time. The third time, both swordsmen held fast, trying to gain leverage over the other.

"I almost feel sorry…" the Doctor quipped. "I clearly have an advantage over you on account of my years of experience and faster reflexes."

"What experience? Ye use the sonic screwdriver for e'erything," Jamie said, as beads of perspiration began to form on his forehead.

"And you're already tiring," the Doctor observed.

"Och, nae; this is invigorating," Jamie grinned.

The blades separated, and Jamie now tried to dart around the Doctor in the hopes that suddenly twirling around to parry would cause him to loosen his grip on the hilt. But the Doctor anticipated this, and blocked without even turning around.

"I do believe you're in over your head this time, Jamie."

"I don' think so," Jamie said, slowly retreating backwards into taller grass. He then smirked as the Doctor paused, trying to observe him. "Come on, then!"

The Time Lord arched an eyebrow, trying to figure out what the piper was planning. He knew Jamie would have much experience hiding from the Redcoats in the heather. Sure enough, Jamie was crouching low into the grass, attempting to disappear amongst it.

"Oh, no, no, no! I shan't be falling for that!" the Doctor scoffed. "Do you honestly think _you_ can lure _me_ into an ambush?"

Jamie didn't reply, vanishing completely into the grass.

"I know your patience!" the Doctor said. "You can't stand still for more than two minutes; all I need to do is wait here for you!"

There was no reply, and, so, the Doctor waited. And waited. And waited. The Time Lord tapped his foot against the ground repeatedly in exasperation.

"Oh, fiddlesticks!" he muttered, his face almost in a pout. "That description applies to me, as well…"

Confident that there was no possible way Jamie could successfully spring an ambush on him with his heightened Gallifreyan senses, the Doctor slowly crept forward, towards the tall grass.

"This is a most unorthodox method of swordplay. I feel as though I should mention that to you!" the Doctor started. "I feel as though we should set some ground rules before we proceed any—"

Jamie suddenly sprung from the grass and struck the Doctor's blade with his own in such a way that the sword was sent flying from the Time Lord's hand. The Doctor let out a yelp, having been successfully taken by surprise.

Jamie now aimed his sword at the Doctor for an instant—and in that instant, they had stood in almost the same way as the instant they had met. Satisfied, the Scot lowered the blade, patting himself on the back.

"So much for yer experience and yer reflexes," he said. "Looks like the drinks are on ye. And I'm in the mood for a few good ales."

"What are you talking about?" the Doctor scoffed. "We're not finished yet!"

"Ye're unarmed!" Jamie said, stating the obvious. "Ye cannae win now!"

"Who says I'm unarmed?" the Doctor replied. "Our little competition isn't over until one of us gives up, and I am not ready to give up just yet!"

Jamie blinked in confusion, holding his sword out again, and then stared in amazement as the Doctor produced a spoon from his pocket.

"Let's continue," the Time Lord mused.

Jamie started at him for a moment, dumbfounded.

"Go on, then—' _Creag an Tuire_ ,' and all that! Come on!" the Doctor exclaimed.

Jamie was reluctant to do anything, not wanting to hurt the Doctor; he just held the blade outward, hoping to push the Doctor back into a retreat that way.

The Doctor sensed Jamie's weakness, and, with a quick flick of the wrist, used the spoon to knock the sword out of Jamie's hand, just as Jamie had done to him. The piper could only watch as his sword joined the Doctor's on the ground.

"Now then," the Doctor said, smirking. "As this seems to have ceased being a swordfight, I suggest we hold a temporary truce to retrieve our swords and continue after we have accomplished that."

Jamie just grunted in response, and then frowned, for as he had retrieved his sword, he had heard a most unusual " _MEEEEH_ " sound.

"Well, you don't have to make noises at me!" the Doctor scoffed, retrieving his sword, as well. "Be a good sport!"

"I thought that was ye!" the piper countered.

"What…?"

" _MEEEEEH_!"

"Oh, dear…" the Doctor said.

"Why, what is it?" Jamie asked.

"I just remembered… That sound is part of the territorial display of the giant, long-horned meadow goat, native to Alpha Arietis."

The two of them turned to see the large, hulking ungulate pawing the ground as it glared at them. The goat was about the size of a small car—and its sharp horns were about as long as their swords. The goat proceeded to bleat at them once more.

"They are quite wild and territorial; the locals haven't managed to tame them yet," the Doctor explained.

"When ye say territorial, do ye mean to other goats, or to anything that happens to be in their way?"

" _MEEEEEEEEH_!"

"Let me put it this way, Jamie: I think an instant retreat is in order!"

The goat lowered its head and charged. Jamie stood his ground for a moment, glancing at the sword in his hands before glancing back at the rapidly approaching goat horns. The local sun's light gleamed almost mockingly off of their golden swords as they ran back towards the TARDIS at top speed.

They made it inside and closed the doors an instant before the goat rammed into the TARDIS, still bleating angrily.

"First a goose, and now a goat; how humiliating," the Scot muttered, and he turned to face the Doctor. "I think I _will_ have that ale now, Doctor."

"Yes, I think I could use one, as well…" the Time Lord sighed. "Oh, I'm just glad Sethos didn't see that…"

"There's just one question, though," Jamie added. "Who's buying the drinks?"

The Gallifreyan and the human exchanged glances, and, without a word, began to cross swords all around the console room as the TARDIS engines huffed in an exasperated sigh.


	6. Invitations

It was another lazy day for the Doctor and Jamie; there were no missions from the Celestial Intervention Agency for the moment, meaning that it was up to the two of them to get into mischief.

At the moment, the Doctor decided to stop by several post offices to check on various post office boxes that the Time Lord had apparently reserved.

"It's something that I've learned to do, you see," the Doctor explained to Jamie. "I set up a post office box most places I've visited the event that anyone I've met has a way to contact me again."

"Aye, I guess when ye keep traveling, it's hard for people to reach ye…"

"Quite right," the Doctor said. "Of course, I rarely get any actual mail from these boxes; still, it doesn't hurt to check—"

The Doctor was cut off in midsentence as a large pile of mail was handed to him, prompting Jamie to laugh.

"Aye, of course ye rarely get any actual mail from these boxes…"

"Well, 'rarely' is still a far cry from 'never,' after all," the Doctor countered. "Now instead of standing there laughing at me, you could offer to help me sort these out."

Jamie took half of the stack as he and the Doctor headed outside, sitting down on one of the nearest benches. It was a moment before the piper noticed something.

"Doctor, these are all from the same person," he said. "Irving Braxiatel, Irving Braxiatel, Irving Braxiatel… Who is this chappie?"

He glanced at the Doctor, who was staring at the stack of letters.

"…He's someone I know from long ago, Jamie," the Doctor said, at last. "Long before I ever met you."

"Oh," Jamie said. "Aye, shouldn't we see what he wants if he's sending ye all these letters?"

"I think I have a good idea," the Doctor muttered, as Jamie opened one of the letters.

"Hey, Doctor; this is nae a letter—it's an invitation! …And so is this one! And this one! I think they're all the same invitation, sent at different time periods so that they'd reach ye no matter what year ye arrived!"

"So it would seem," the Doctor said. "These are all identical, but, as you say, some are clearly older than others."

"But why would this Irving Braxiatel chappie want to invite ye somewhere?" Jamie wondered.

"I imagine it would amuse him," the Doctor said. "We haven't seen each other in a very long time."

"Aye, well, these invitations say that ye are invited to KS-159 for a tour of the Braxiatel Collection… What's that?"

"As I understand it, it is a collection of relics from across time and space, assembled with the intent of protecting them from the various destructive elements of their home worlds," the Doctor explained.

"Oh. Well, it also says here that the tour will be… followed by a meal and drinks at the Rat and Pestle Pub." Jamie's face showed a look of approval at the mention of a pub.

"I see _that_ caught your attention more than the prospect of seeing valuable relics from across time and space…"

Jamie shrugged.

"I won' know anything aboot ninety percent of those relics," he pointed out. "But I know a good ale when I drink one."

The Doctor gave Jamie a long look.

"Sometimes I wonder why I even bother—I really do wonder," the Time Lord sighed.

"It's because ye're an old softie," Jamie said, without missing a beat. "Aye, then, ye want to go for a pint to this Rat and Pestle Pub?"

The piper struggled not to laugh as the reply was a jelly baby thrown so that it would bounce off his nose.

"The vast expanse of time and space at our fingertips, and it's all one big pub crawl to you," the Doctor sighed, in mock-disapproval.

"I notice that ye ne'er refuse t' drink with me. Ye e'en put ginger in yer drinks so that ye can feel the effects like us humans do."

"Scientific study, that's all; I'm just attempting to discover what you humans see in this indulgence."

"Aye, whate'er ye say…" Jamie mused.

"Yes, that is what I say! …Hello, what's this?"

The Doctor was now distracted by a different envelope at the bottom of his stack of invitations. This envelope was different from the others, and was sent by someone else; Irving Braxiatel's letters had been addressed to "Thete," but this letter was addressed to "Doctor John Smith."

"Well, open it!" Jamie prodded.

The Doctor opened the envelope to reveal another invitation.

"What's that for?" Jamie inquired. Without waiting for an answer, he leaned over to read it himself, prompting the Doctor to roll his eyes. "This is a pair of invitations to a dinner banquet, followed by a wine-tasting!"

"So it is. And there's a letter here, as well…" The Gallifreyan trailed off as the Scot now craned his neck to read the letter, too.

_Doctor,_

_I'm not sure where—or when—you currently are, but I trust this will find you at some point or another, as it usually does. I get invited to a lot of these posh parties, but I can't seem to get away at this point in time. Rather than let these invitations go to waste, I decided to leave them for you and whoever it is you're currently traveling with._

_I hope this finds you in good health._

_Regards,  
Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart_

"I imagine the Brigadier _does_ get invited to a lot of these," the Doctor mused. "How kind of him to give these invitations to us…"

"Aye, and this is the kind of party I would like to go to," Jamie stated. "Nothing but food, with fine wine afterwards. I'll admit I would prefer an ale, but the wine won' be bad, I'm sure."

"Well, I can't deny that I would prefer to see the Braxiatel Collection," the Doctor sighed. "However, if you prefer going to the banquet, I suppose I would find that enjoyable, as well."

"Aye, that'd be great!" Jamie grinned. "But I still would like to visit this Rat and Pestle Pub sometime."

"Of course you would."

"So we can go to the TARDIS and go to this banquet right now, aye? Why wait?"

"Well, before we go, I think… …Oh, dear," the Doctor said. "I just realized something, Jamie."

"Eh?"

"This is an extremely high-class banquet."

"Aye, so?"

"…They aren't going to let us in as we are."

"…What does that mean?"

"I mean, Jamie, that these sorts of get-togethers require attendees to dress and groom themselves for the occasion."

"…I don' think I like the sound of that," Jamie said.

"No, nor do I," the Doctor mused. "We shan't be allowed to wear these clothes we have on now; they'll practically require tuxedos. And they'll probably want us to have our hair done, as well."

Jamie frowned.

"Ye know, Doctor, suddenly, that banquet doesnae seem as appealing as it first did," the piper declared.

"I do believe you're right, Jamie."

The duo continued to sit on the bench for some time, silently pondering over their options.

"It is a pity that the Brigadier's banquet invitations will go t' waste after all," Jamie mused.

"No, I don't think they will," the Doctor said, as he stared at the pieces of paper. "I'll leave them in the TARDIS. I daresay Old Fancypants will find a use for them; this seems like the sort of thing he would prefer."

"Who is Old Fancypants?"

"An absolutely insufferable gentleman that I am one day destined to become," the Doctor muttered.

"Oh," Jamie said, remembering what he had learned about the Doctor's people, and how they change when they died. "…When?"

The Doctor could sense the apprehension in the piper's voice. He gave the Scot a gentle smile as he ruffled his hair.

"Not for a long time, if I can help it," the Doctor promised him. "And I'm sure you'll do whatever lies in your power to prevent his premature arrival, as well."

"Aye," Jamie vowed, instantly.

"I never doubted it."

Jamie smiled back, and then sighed.

"Ye really want t' see this Braxiatel collection, aye? If ye're sure we willnae have to get dressed up t' go t' that, I'll go with ye."

"Oh, don't worry; it's clear that this is come-as-you-are. The pub setting for afterwards certainly confirms that," the Doctor assured him. "You'll enjoy the pub. And who knows? You might even learn something at the exhibit."

"Knowing ye, I don' doubt it," Jamie mused. He paused. "Doctor… I know I complain aboot my lessons a lot, but I am grateful that ye took the time and effort to teach me things—and that ye still try to."

"Did you think I would have pressed on with them if I didn't know that, deep down, you truly did appreciate them?" the Doctor queried, gently tapping the piper on the nose. "Of course not! Now then, I say we get back to the TARDIS and enjoy this little trip to the exhibition— _and_ the pub."

Eagerly, the two of them gathered the opened envelopes and invitations and dashed back to the TARDIS, eager to reach their next destination.


	7. End of the Beginning

Jamie knew from experience that when the Doctor wanted to take him somewhere in space and time to show him something, it was usually tied to his lesson for the day. And though the piper sometimes worried that whatever it was would go sailing over his head without him understanding any of it, more often than not, he would have a great time—and actually learn something.

Beyond that, however, he never knew what to expect. So when the TARDIS doors opened to reveal that they were floating in space, Jamie looked in surprise as he saw what appeared to be a large, thick cloud of cosmic dust swirling all around them, stopping just in front of the force field that the TARDIS was creating around them. The cloud was glowing with bright light, with portions of the cloud growing brighter than others—and it seemed to continue without end.

"Well, Jamie, what do you think?" the Doctor asked.

"It's… verra interesting," the piper said. "A great cloud. What is it?"

"The universe, Jamie—a fledgling universe," the Doctor said. "We have arrived shortly after the Big Bang. Well, I say 'shortly,' but to you, it would seem like a long time afterwards. But in comparison to the age of the universe, it's only shortly afterwards. I don't think you were expecting this, were you?"

Jamie shook his head, still staring at the cloud.

"And all this dust will become the entire universe?" he asked. "The same universe we live in?"

"Yes," the Doctor said, with a broad grin on his face. "Gravity will bring the dust together, forming stars, planets, and galaxies."

"But if this cloud of dust is then entire universe, then that means…" Jamie trailed off, his eyes growing wide. "Are ye saying that the Earth is nothing but dust in this cloud?"

"The Earth, Gallifrey, Skaro—every place we've been, and every being we've ever met started as cosmic dust in this cloud," the Doctor said. "Atoms and molecules are spreading throughout space, forming things—often being destroyed and re-forming in the process. It's an endless cycle. Eventually, they come together to form the places we know—and the people we know."

"…We're somewhere in this dust, then," Jamie realized. "Ye and I—we're somewhere in this cloud."

"Yes—yes, we are, in a manner of speaking," the Doctor agreed. "The atoms and molecules that will eventually become us are somewhere in this cloud."

"I wonder where we are," Jamie mused, looking around.

"Well, there's no way of knowing for certain," the Doctor reminded him. "You're hardly going to find any indication, so if you're listening for cosmic dust that's playing bagpipe music, you're in for a disappointment. It's going to be several billion years before the Earth is even formed!"

"Aye, I know…" Jamie said. "But, e'en so, it's incredible to imagine."

"That it is, Jamie."

Jamie continued to stare in wonder at the cosmic dust; the Doctor watched him with a wistful expression, and it was a while before the piper finally noticed.

"Doctor?" he asked, sensing something off. "Doctor, what it is?"

"Oh, Jamie…" the Doctor sighed. "I wanted to show you the entire universe—all of its wonders. As it is, this is the best I can manage."

"Aye, and it is wondrous, Doctor," Jamie replied. "I'm glad you showed it to me—all of this. How it all began."

"No, no, no, no, no," the Time Lord said, shaking his head. "Not like this, Jamie. I wanted to take you to so many places in our _present_ universe! There were so many things I had been planning to show you ever since you first came aboard the TARDIS!"

"We can still go, aye?" Jamie asked.

The Doctor didn't answer him; the Time Lord glanced at his arm—where, beneath the sleeves of his frock coat and shirt, was the serpent tattoo that served as a reminder of his criminal status.

"I don't know," the Doctor said, quietly, sounding very different from his usually upbeat persona. "I really don't know _what_ we can do anymore, Jamie. At any moment, any plans we might have could be interrupted by the Agency, sending us on yet another harrowing assignment. And if I dare to put so much as a toe out of line, they'll take you away from me again and send you back to Scotland without your memories of me."

"Doctor—"

"And then I'll have to wait another fifty years to see you again."

"Alright, then, we'll toe the line and make sure they don' have a reason to take me away from ye," Jamie said.

"But then we're right back to this problem again, aren't we?" the Doctor said, glancing at the fledgling universe all around them. "I can't guarantee that I can show you what I want to show you."

"I won' hold that against ye, if that's what's worrying you," Jamie assured him, though he knew that wasn't it.

The Doctor did manage some semblance of a smile at that before returning to his melancholy mood.

"I know you won't. But I can't help but feel as though that you deserve more than what I can possibly give you now. When we first started traveling together, I could give you that. Now, I can't."

"Doctor, ye gave me my life," Jamie reminded him. "I'd have been one more among the dead at Culloden had it nae been for ye. Ye saved me, e'en though I'd threatened ye and was ready to kill ye withoot a second thought."

"You were frightened for your life; one can't blame you for that."

"Aye, and one cannae blame ye for what's happening now," Jamie said. "If ye'd have left Zoe and me with all the other soldiers and run off like ye'd intended, they ne'er would have caught ye. But we insisted on going with ye, and we slowed ye down. Really, it's our own fault we got caught and sent back."

"I don't think I could have left you behind, even if you hadn't insisted on going along," the Doctor admitted. He indicated the cloud of cosmic dust outside. "All of this wouldn't mean as much without someone to share it with. And, as I said, there is so much more I wanted to share with you."

"We'll do what we can, then," Jamie said.

The Doctor gave him a look.

"Very well," he said. "Is there anywhere in particular you wanted to go?"

"Och, there's no use asking me," Jamie sighed. "I don' e'en know what's oot there. Ye know, when I was a laddie, I would sometimes look up at the stars—on those rare nights when it wasnae cloudy or raining, of course."

The Doctor did chuckle at that.

"I ne'er really thought much aboot what was beyond this Earth," the piper continued. "And I certainly ne'er expected that there was such a thing as a man from the stars—let alone that a man from the stars would save me and look after me with such kindness and love, and ask for nothing in return. And e'en now, ye're more upset aboot nae being able to take me t' places and show me things. Meanwhile, I'm just standing here wishing I could do things for ye, too."

"But, Jamie, you _are_ helping me!" the Doctor exclaimed. "You're the one making all this servitude for the Agency bearable!"

"Aye, but I don' have a TARDIS that I can use t' take ye to places and show ye things," Jamie pointed out.

"But I don't _need_ that, Jamie! The fact that you are here with me, why… that is everything I could ever need!"

"Really?" Jamie asked. "Then why do ye think my view would be any different than that?"

"Oh…" the Doctor said, realizing the point that Jamie had been trying to make. "Oh, you turned that right around, didn't you…?"

"Aye, and I'm glad ye realize it. Look, Doctor… I know ye like showing me places and things. I like to see them, too. But that isnae why I travel with ye. It's like I told ye when ye thought I'd be upset that we'd have to work for the Agency at all—they could throw us in a dungeon cell for the rest of our days, and it wouldnae matter t' me, as long as it was the same cell."

"And in spite of everything I say about wanting to take you places, I can assure you, Jamie, that I could learn to live with that."

Jamie smiled, gently clinging to the Doctor's arm as he looked back outside at the cloud of cosmic dust.

"Ye know what I think, Doctor?"

"No, but I can use touch-telepathy to find out—unless you'd rather tell me, of course."

"I think that somewhere oot in that cloud, the dust bits that will become me and the dust bits that will become ye are together right now. That's why we always seem t' end up finding each other now—why we have some sort of connection, despite being from different planets and being different species."

"Well, that is an interesting theory, Jamie. I'm not sure how we could go about proving it, mind you," the Doctor mused. "But until evidence insists otherwise, I see no harm in assuming that it is true."

Silently, they watched the cloud for some more time.

"Doctor?"

"Yes, Jamie?"

"Ye said it was fifty years until they let ye see me again. How did ye manage that long?"

The Doctor sighed before leading Jamie away from the TARDIS doors; he briefly stopped at the console to close the doors and send them into flight through the vortex before taking Jamie to his study. The Doctor unlocked his desk, and he withdrew a large stack of paper from the bigger-on-the-inside drawer.

"This is how I managed," he said.

Jamie took a look a look at the first paper on top of the stack.

"It's a letter t' me," he observed, and then he realized the significance of the large stack of papers. "…Ye wrote letters t' me for fifty years?"

"In the hopes that, one day, you'd be able to read them. I limited myself to one letter per month, you see, but, even then… that led to six hundred letters. I don't expect you to read them all, of course—"

"I want t' read them," Jamie insisted, with the utmost sincerity. "It'll take me some time, but I will read them all. I figure that if I read five of them per day, that'll be a good pace and I can get through them in aboot…" He attempted to calculate the time. "Aboot four months, I think?"

The Doctor just stared at Jamie for a moment with an absolutely unreadable expression.

"Yes," he said, at last, clearing his throat a few times. "Yes, that's quite right. Very good, Jamie."

He gripped the piper's shoulder firmly, hoping that Jamie wouldn't notice the slight tremble in his fingers as he did so.

The Doctor had meant what he had said to Jamie earlier—that his presence was enough to make this whole thing worthwhile. And as the piper looked back at him, with his face aglow, the Doctor realized that he would have gladly endured so much more just for this moment—and whatever moments lay ahead of them.


	8. Comfort Food

Jamie had come to accept that life with the Doctor was going to be different from now on. It was just the two of them now, with their travels at the mercy of the Celestial Intervention Agency. And even though the Doctor had made peace with the fact that Jamie didn't mind the restrictions upon their travels, it didn't mean that he wasn't prone to bouts of dark moods. These dark moods coincided with whenever he had to speak to Goth; Jamie could sense their mutual loathing for each other even while listening to their conversations in another room on board the TARDIS.

This particular morning was no exception; Goth had called early in the morning, while Jamie had been asleep, and it was the ensuing argument that had awakened the piper; he had, more than likely, reacted to the Doctor's angry tone. Goth had been chiding the Doctor on his latest mission report (lacking in details, and full of unbelievable fabrications, he had claimed—to which the Doctor had queried as to how Goth could possibly know that there were fabrications if there were no details). This devolved into a full-fledged argument that ended with Goth issuing a stream of insults that he knew the Doctor daren't retaliate to, lest he lose his status with the Agency. After Goth had finished browbeating him, the Doctor retreated to his study, grumbling under his breath as he sat, fuming, in his armchair.

Jamie knew that all he had to do was show up in the room, and the Doctor's mood would lighten immediately. The piper was more than pleased to be able to give back the kindness that the Doctor had shown him so many times, but wished that it didn't have to come to this for him to do so.

Jamie had just been ready to enter the study when he heard some of what the Doctor was muttering.

"I've given them fifty years of my life. My services are still not appreciated. I leaped through hoops and toed the line, practically begged to have a traveling companion…" The Doctor trailed off, exhaling. "Oh, Jamie…" At last, he smiled. He checked his watch. "Oh, no; he's still asleep, isn't he? I'll let him have a bit of a lie-in."

The Doctor sighed and now stared blankly at the fire in the fireplace, periodically glancing at the empty armchair beside him.

Jamie stood there for a moment, debating on whether to go to him now; he then decided that today called for something special.

Quietly, he darted away, down the corridor. He paced for a while, wondering how best to cheer up the Doctor.

He now looked upwards, at the ceiling of the TARDIS.

"What can I do?" he asked, quietly.

A door nearby opened; Jamie headed in to the kitchen. The TARDIS's food machine was one of the things Jamie loved most about the ship; anything he wanted to eat could be easily made. The Doctor didn't need to eat much, but, even so, he always made it a habit to share meals with Jamie, on account of what it meant to piper.

"We can have breakfast together, aye," Jamie mused. He then paused. "Och, but that's nothing special. We have breakfast together every day anyway."

He continued to pace again as the food machine now began to produce all the things that the Doctor liked—roasted grouse, pressed duck, a savory gumblejack stew…

"These are nae breakfast foods!" Jamie pointed out. But then, he blinked. "But they're his favorites. Aye. We'll have these for breakfast, then?"

It was most definitely out of the ordinary, Jamie realized. But, then again, when did the Doctor ever do things in an ordinary fashion.

Nothing about the Doctor was ordinary. That was just one of the things Jamie loved about him. But it was also what the other Time Lords hated about him.

The piper now mused over this, looking at the many warm foods and then wondering what to do.

"I know what t' do," he said, at last. He gently placed a hand on the wall. "Thank ye, TARDIS."

* * *

The Doctor was still where Jamie had left him—in his chair, still staring blankly at the fire. The piper cleared his throat, and the change over the Doctor's face was instantaneous; the sullen expression gave way to a smile.

"Ah, Jamie!" he exclaimed, getting up from his armchair at last. "You're up early, aren't you?"

"I've actually been awake for a while now," Jamie admitted, walking over to him.

"Oh? Have you eaten yet? You must be hungry…" The Doctor trailed off as Jamie now wrapped his arms around him, giving him a tight hug. "Jamie?"

"Don' ye believe them," the piper said.

"Believe them?" the Doctor repeated.

"The other Time Lords," Jamie said.

"Oh. Oh, I see…" the Doctor realized. "You… You heard the things that Goth had to say to me."

"Aye," Jamie said. "All the arguing woke me up."

"I'm sorry, Jamie; I didn't want—"

"No; I'm glad it did," Jamie said. "Today, I finally heard the things that Goth was saying. He's been saying those things to ye for all the time ye were working for them, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he has," the Doctor said. "When the Agency stepped in after he and the other two in my tribunal were ready to make me regenerate, he was the only one of the three who was against getting my sentence postponed. In fact, I strongly suspect that he wanted all of my regenerations taken away."

"But why?" Jamie asked.

"Oh, I don't know," the Doctor sighed. "I suppose I'm some sort of nuisance or an embarrassment—all of the Time Lords think so. But Goth has taken it to a personal vendetta, it seems."

"Ye're nae an embarrassment or a nuisance t' me," Jamie insisted, now pulling back from the hug to look at him. "Ye looked after me for three years, and now ye're doing that again. And ye ne'er asked anything from me."

"As much as I've given, I've received," the Doctor assured him. "We look after each other, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Neither would I," Jamie said. "And all the Time Lords in the galaxy cannae change that. They tried, and here we are."

"Yes, I do think I've finally reach the light at the end of the tunnel," the Doctor said, with a smile. "Mind you, there'll be another tunnel, but I shall deal with that then, instead of worrying about it now."

"Good," Jamie said. "And now, we should have breakfast."

"Oh, yes; you didn't have to wait for me, you know. You could have eaten if you were hungry."

But Jamie shook his head.

"I like having breakfast with ye," the piper said. "I've set e'erything up for us. Follow me!"

He took one of the Doctor's hands in his and led him out of the study and towards the console room.

"Jamie, our dining area is _that_ way…"

"I know; we're nae eating in the dining area," Jamie said, as he led the Doctor to the console room and out the doors.

"Oh…!" the Doctor exclaimed, seeing his favorite foods resting on a picnic blanket just outside the TARDIS; it was a vast, grassy hillside that overlooked a small brook. "Oh, Jamie, it's lovely!"

"The food was the TARDIS's idea," Jamie admitted. "But the picnic was mine. Maybe the other Time Lords don' appreciate ye, but I do."

The Doctor gave him a long look.

"Thank you, Jamie," he said, softly. "This means a lot to me, you know. Mind you, I've always known that you appreciated me—even amidst all the teasing."

"Och, I only tease ye because ye tease me!"

The two of them sat down on the picnic blanket as they bantered, and Jamie handed him a serving of roasted grouse on a plate before taking a serving for himself. And as they ate their breakfast, their idle chatter soon drove Goth and the Time Lords far from their minds.


	9. The Road's Sweet Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a short, fun piece. The "conversation" that Two has with One's voice is something inspired by the EU, which states that the personalities of previous regenerations stay in the back of the current Time Lord's mind, and that the Time Lord can converse with those previous selves—this was also recently seen in "Mummy on the Orient Express," where Twelve was talking to himself and replying in Four's voice. And yes, the anti-gravity motorcycle featured in this vignette is meant to be the same one that Eleven uses in "The Bells of St. John," the idea being that he held onto it. Also, the other biker who appears in this vignette is a cameo from one of my other fandoms.

The Doctor still believed that the space-time continuum was not ready for a Jacobite rebel biker. In all honesty, he knew that it would probably never be ready for something like that—not after all the modernizations that Jamie had absorbed since traveling with the Doctor once more after their separation.

But as the Doctor observed Jamie spending hours in the library, pouring over magazines and books to look at pictures of motorcycles, watching motorcycles on the television in the TARDIS's entertainment room, and looking wistfully at real motorcycles in shops and on the road, he found it harder and harder to insist upon it.

It was one night in the TARDIS, after Jamie had gone to bed, that the Doctor was pacing in his study, thinking about what to do in regards to it. And he soon found himself getting criticized by a surprising source.

" _You know it is a most foolish idea_!" a voice in his head reminded him, sounding like his previous self—a phenomenon not unheard of for Time Lords who had previously undergone regeneration. " _I know you care for the boy, but you're letting the fifty years you were separated from him cloud your judgment_!"

"But I want him to be happy," the Doctor murmured aloud. "I'm limited with what I can offer him thanks to the other Time Lords."

" _And he has made it very clear that asks nothing from you except your company_ ," the voice replied.

"But the fact remains that he still wants a motorbike," the Doctor mused. "If I can give him that, why shouldn't I?"

" _For one simple reason: it will lead to trouble in some way_!"

"We're no strangers to trouble," the Doctor countered. "In fact, I daresay it's become a staple of our existence."

" _Be that as it may_ …"

"And first and foremost, it will make him happy! I want to make Jamie as happy as possible!" the Doctor continued.

" _And when have you ever found it necessary that you must buy the boy's happiness? You have never had to before. Why start now? Already, you have given him that smartphone, those future foods, that confounded air hockey table, and a whole host of other things! Are you truly, deep down, afraid that he will be disillusioned over working for the Agency and choose to leave you at some point?_ "

"Of course not!" the Doctor insisted. "Perhaps I was concerned about that, at first, but he has made it very clear that he has no intentions of leaving the TARDIS of his own volition. And as I once said, a Highlander's word is his bond."

" _That should settle everything_ ," the voice said.

"Except it does _not_ settle everything," the Doctor sighed, his face forming a pout. "Why can't I do something to make him happy simply for the sake of wanting to see the look on his face?"

" _Oh, very well—it's clear that I can't stop you_!" the voice huffed. " _But on your own head be it!_ "

The voice fell silent at that point, leaving the Doctor to ponder over what to do next. The voice of his previous self had been right that he had made up his mind about what he wanted to do. Just because he didn't need to buy Jamie's happiness, it didn't mean that he couldn't get him something he wanted just for the fun of it.

* * *

It was some time later that the Doctor found the perfect opportunity; the two of them were taking another well-deserved break in between missions when, during the course of their adventure, while Jamie was tucking in to a big meal, the Doctor managed to slip away for a short amount of time to arrange the surprise for Jamie.

"Where'd ye wander off t'?" Jamie asked, when the Doctor returned.

"Oh, here and there; I didn't want you to feel rushed to finish eating," the Time Lord said, with a smile. "Did you have a nice lunch?"

"Aye," Jamie said, with a grin. "Thanks for bringing me here."

The Doctor smiled back at him.

"You're happy, then?" he asked, remembering the conversation he'd had with the voice of his past self.

"Of course I am!" the piper exclaimed. He paused, suddenly coming to a realization. "Ye're still upset aboot working for the Agency, aye? Och, Doctor, I told ye that it di'n matter t' me where we get to go."

"I know, Jamie; I know," the Doctor said, with a smile. "Believe me, I had a long and exhaustive conversation with myself over the matter the other night."

"Eh?"

"I'll explain later," the Doctor said. "In the meantime, I want to show you something—it's in the car park."

Jamie was more than a little puzzled, but decided to humor the Doctor and followed him there. The piper froze in his tracks as he saw a gleaming motorcycle standing just outside the TARDIS.

"Doctor!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining.

"I managed to procure this with quite an impressive bit of bartering, if you don't mind my saying so," the Time Lord boasted. "That box there in front is an anti-gravity setting I added in myself! Gives it a bit more than an ordinary motorbike—also useful for driving up a cliff, should that need ever arise, of course… And you can use the motorbike's gravity settings to ensure that your kilt stays where it should be. There's also an Anti-Grav Olympics off in the future that this could be used in if we registered it."

"Ye mean this is ours!?" Jamie asked, walking circles around it, admiring it from every angle.

"Well, actually… it's yours."

" _Mine_ …!?" the piper exclaimed, his voice breaking from excitement. "But… but ye said… The continuum wasnae ready for a Highlander t' be driving one!"

"Well, upon further consideration, I do believe the continuum is as ready as it shall ever be," the Doctor said, smiling broadly to see the look on Jamie's face. "Well, go on and try it out, Jamie!"

"Aye… but where's the place for ye t' sit?"

"For me?" the Doctor said. "Well, there was a sidecar, of course, but did you really want me to attach that?"

"Aye!" Jamie said, as though he was stating the obvious. "Ye don' think I could fully enjoy it if ye werenae there?"

"I suppose not," the Doctor admitted, smiling in gratitude. "Come on, then; I'll teach you how to attach the sidecar."

The two of them soon had the sidecar put together, and Jamie eagerly got onto the seat of the cycle as the Doctor made himself comfortable in the sidecar.

"Oh, Jamie, you're practically a natural at this!" the Doctor complimented, as Jamie drove on down the road. "No one could ever guess that you were from the 1740s! …Well, aside from the kilt, of course…."

Jamie just grinned in reply.

"Now see how the anti-gravity works," the Doctor encouraged him. "When we go 'round that next bend, drive up the embankment a little bit and cut around the corner that way! …Faster now, go on!"

Jamie eagerly turned the anti-gravity on and did as the Doctor encouraged, driving effortlessly along the wall of the embankment before bringing the motorbike back down to the road.

"Aye, how was that?"

"Oh, very well done! But do look out for the lights!" the Doctor exclaimed. "That one is red—you must stop! The anti-gravity doesn't excuse you from that!"

Jamie stopped at the light.

"Och, so I'm still learning…" he said, with a shrug, but trailed off as another motorcyclist—a burly man in tattered, dirty leather clothes and thick sunglasses—pulled up in the lane alongside Jamie.

The other biker gave Jamie a sideways glance, took a look at him, and let out a gruff guffaw.

"What's a skirt-wearing pipsqueak like you doing on the road?" he demanded, through a heavy cough.

"Same thing a hulking beastie like ye are!" Jamie retorted.

"Now, Jamie, don't antagonize him," the Doctor warned. The Gallifreyan frowned as he caught a whiff of the other biker's noticeably foul odor; whoever this slob was probably had fewer baths in his lifetime than Jamie had during his pre-TARDIS days in the 1740s—and that was saying a lot, seeing as though they were in the 21st century now.

"That's right, Kid," the other biker sneered. "Listen to your wimpy friend there and just keep going."

"He's nae a wimp!" Jamie shot back.

"Oh, right—that's you," the biker countered, as the light turned green. He revved the engine of his bike. "Eat dust, Kid!"

Jamie swore in Gaelic as the other biker rode off.

"Jamie?" the Doctor asked, seeing the look in the piper's eyes and knowing all too well what it meant. "Jamie, I think we ought to go back—"

" _Creag an tuire_!"

"…Oh dear…"

The Doctor gripped the edges of the sidecar's seat as Jamie, now very glad that the bike had its own gravitational field.

"Jamie!" he exclaimed. "Jamie, I do think this is not the best idea! Oh, Jamie, do slow down a little bit!"

But Jamie was tearing right behind the other biker, who looked back at them for a moment.

"You know, the last time someone followed me, I threw him into a volcano!" he bellowed. Whether he was serious or not, Jamie didn't back down, prompting the other biker to sneer and cut across the shoulder of the road to increase his lead—already a sizable one, as he wasn't slowed down by a sidecar.

Undaunted, the piper resorted to using the anti-gravity feature again, driving straight up and around the embankment, sideways. The other biker stared, dumbly, as Jamie and the Doctor took the lead and sped off down the road.

"Did ye see that, Doctor?" Jamie asked, a broad grin on his face. "Did ye see how I beat that hulking beastie!?"

"Y-Yes, Jamie; it would have been rather difficult for me to miss that, seeing as though I was right here the entire time," the Doctor said, his knuckles still white as he continued to grip the edges of the seat. "You certainly beat him very soundly."

"Aye; he willnae see me as a 'wimp' again! …By the way, Doctor, what exactly is a wimp?"

The Doctor chuckled and proceeded to explain.

He knew, of course, that he should have chided Jamie for getting involved with that other biker, as well as speeding and showing off when it was not a good idea to do that, but the road had been otherwise empty aside from the other biker, and they had been protected by the anti-gravity field.

But as he glanced back and Jamie and saw the sheer happiness on his face as they continued down the road, the Doctor decided that it had all been worth it… even if he knew that, deep down, his previous self had been right—that there had been no need to buy Jamie's happiness.

Still, it was always enjoyable to see him smile.


End file.
